Bittersweet
by Periphery
Summary: Sirius Black has broken into Gryffindor Tower and escaped. Remus Lupin turns to someone who remembers the Sirius he does... and remembers different times. Rated for language.


_Obviously many of these things are the property of JKR. This story was also heavily influenced by the works of Alkari, Thing1, and InFabula, all over at the Sugar Quill; and of course, I can no longer write Sirius Black without his sounding like Shoebox!Sirius in my head. I do not regret this. The upshot of all this is that even less of this is due to myself than I would like to imagine._

* * *

"I try to forget," he says, before she can even register his presence in her office, at six in the morning, after an extraordinarily long night. Poppy jumps, coming down with a hand over her heart and an exaggerated scowl.

"Remus Lupin, you scared me halfway to the grave," she says sternly.

He offers a shadow of a smile from the chair before her desk. "You're not so fragile as that, Madam Pomfrey."

"You can call me Poppy now, Remus. You've the right."

"I can't. Would be like calling Dad by his first name."

She busies herself sitting down, to hide her blush. Dawn is breaking, finally, and her chair is more comfortable than she anticipated. Perhaps she will never move again. "Flattery. You were saying?"

"I was saying… I try to forget."

"Forget what?"

"Before. Sirius. James and Peter and Lily. It's easier. You heard what's happened tonight?"

"Of course." Now that the castle is secure and the students allowed out of their dormitories, the ward is full of nervous breakdowns. Poppy doesn't share this, in case he really hasn't noticed. Instead she pictures Sirius Black as a young man. Before.

"I never would have believed it of him either," she says honestly. "Would you like a drink?"

"A _what_?"

In answer she Summons a bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses. They are both adults now, and she's not above using alcohol to calm the nerves - besides, the dismay on his face is comical. Once he has the drink in his hands, though, he certainly knows what to do with it. Poppy watches him drain the glass and decides he can probably handle another. Hers she sips.

"You try to forget," she prompts.

"The Sirius I knew…"

The Sirius _she _knew loved his friends. He quizzed her about lycanthropy until she nearly ran out of patience, let alone answers. His laughter was infectious and full of joy; it used to leak out of the ward and into her office, and she would smile contentedly at her work.

The young Sirius Black made a mistake once and told her of it himself, bracing for her disappointment as though she were his own mother. _I would never hurt Remus on purpose,_ he said, low and determined. _I would die first_. Voldemort had been rising: such expressions were not idle. Sirius's eyes knew that.

"We trusted him," she says. "We all trusted him to take care of his friends."

Remus looks up, startled. "He took care of _me,_" he says. "Every month, after we left school. He learned all the charms."

"And learned them well. Who do you think taught them to him?"

"They came in handy elsewhere too, I'm sure." Remus rolls the empty glass between his palms. "He was different then," he says, pleading.

Poppy wonders what exactly he is like now. No one has seen him enough to know – not in twelve years. But to know what he has done – what he did tonight… yes, that is enough to know that he is not the same.

"Very different," she answers. "He was a bright, caring, mischievous young man who loved you, and James, and Peter." The principal advantage of being the fussy old Matron is being able to say things like that, even to reserved British men, so she says it again. "He loved you. I could tell."

Remus shakes his head mutely.

"I think it's best," she says, "to mourn the man that _was_, and start over thinking about the man who is now threatening what we have left."

"This is what they mean, when they say you're dead to me, isn't it?"

"We may use that expression too lightly, but here I believe it's appropriate."

"Padfoot always liked you."

It is a shaken moment before she can recall the name. Moony, that's what they all used to call Remus, and the other boys had odd nicknames too. Padfoot was Sirius.

"I liked him too," she says.

Padfoot, they both understand, is someone who is now gone.

* * *

This is what happened sixteen years ago, when James and Sirius and Lily were all on their first _major_ raid and Peter was off on yet another mysterious mission and Remus was dealing with his _furry little problem_. He remembers how his whole belly gnawed at him whenever he thought of the raid, of all of them out there risking their lives without him. He remembers saying it twice, for confirmation: _I'll see you in the morning_. And he remembers the fog through which Sirius's face peered next. _Moony. Fuck, what did you do to yourself? This is a lot, Moony, do you remember this one happening? When? How about this one?_ He remembers coming to with Padfoot's warmth beside him. He remembers Summoning the file and closing his eyes and being, strangely, unafraid.

* * *

What is happening here is basically chaos. Finally patched up himself, James parks himself in a corner of Hogwarts' hospital wing, which has somehow become command central, and tries to straighten everybody out in his head. Most of the ward is given over to the victims: injured Order members, Aurors, and the children and night staff of the Muggle orphanage which, for reasons unknown, was last night's Death Eater target. Dumbledore knew, and took advantage, and now here they are while Madam Pomfrey bustles around, giving off the impression of complete competence even as she demands aid from St. Mungo's. With several other attacks last night and the looming International Summit To Discuss International Cooperation in the Opposition of Dark Magic, aid does not seem to be forthcoming. Meanwhile Dumbledore is taking reports at McGonagall's bedside, while she peers out sternly from beneath a thick bandage circling her hairline; half a dozen people run around discussing authorization for memory modification on Muggle children; and another dozen attempt to comfort and/or corral the children. One of the Muggle staff-women is stridently demanding an explanation, but no one is listening.

Lily is making herself useful, of course. Sirius is nowhere to be found. After a bare instant of panic James remembers: the moon has set. He himself was supposed to be there, but then was a last-minute addition to this raid. He'd tried to convey how guilty he felt about this, only to be crushed by Remus's guilt for being unable to fight with them.

But Sirius just went to take care of Moony.

James can go check on them. Just to make sure. Last night he failed to save that little boy with the stuffed duck, but this… this he can do.

* * *

He can get to Remus's flat; he knows how to get through the security charms and jiggle the lock so it will let him through. He knows where he's going.

He doesn't know what to do once he's poked his head into the bedroom. Remus is asleep but he looks like all hell: pale like the moon itself, hair sticking to his skin, curled slightly to the side against Padfoot, who lifts his head to turn big, helpless eyes on James. An instant later Sirius bounds onto the floor upright.

_I think we need help_, he says seriously. _This isn't normal._

James reaches toward the bed, feels the heat rolling off Remus. _He doesn't usually run a fever, does he?_

_No. The charms are built to prevent infection. He's usually more or less – alert, like, and coherent, too. I dunno – Prongs – it was bad, this time._

Nodding in understanding, James drives the heels of his hands into his eyes. _So what do we do?_

_Can you get Lily?  
_

_Lily… she's only half-trained, what about St. Mungo's – _

_No!_

James drops his hands, startled by the whiplike ferocity of the word.

_That is,_ Sirius says, more calmly, _I'd really rather not. I'll explain later._

_That's exactly what I'll have to tell Lily_, James murmurs, but then Sirius meets his eyes and they understand each other, this way, they have for a long time.

_Right,_ James says, and he turns on his heel and is gone.

* * *

_Lily. Lilylilylily._

_Yes, yes, hello. Can it wait?_

_We need your help. Healing, I mean. Now._

_Who's hurt? What happened?_

_I can't tell you that. I mean, obviously I can tell you who, but I can't tell you how, not yet. You have to promise, Lily._

_James, if I don't know what happened then I can't – _

_We'll tell you as much as we can, but… it's not ours to tell. I mean, he probably wouldn't mind you knowing – _

_Who wouldn't?_

_- but he has to say all right and he can't right now so please, please don't ask too many questions._

_Like Madam Pomfrey._

_She knows, actually, but she can't leave here, now, can she. Please, Lily._

_I'm coming, I'm coming. Who is it?_

_This way. We have to get off the grounds. It's Remus._

_Remus? But he wasn't on the –_

_I'll explain later. Probably._

* * *

Lily is a few steps past nervous, to be called on for answers like this, all by herself. It was one thing in the Hogwarts infirmary, where Madam Pomfrey could check her if anything went horribly wrong, but on her own like this… and on Remus, who is her friend… she hopes it's something she knows how to deal with. Injuries and infections and other war-related maladies have been bumped to the front of the Healers' curriculum, because of the war. Never before has she hoped for something to be war-related.

She ignores Sirius, who is standing soldier-straight on the far side of the bed, and turns her attention to her patient.

* * *

In short order Lily has interrogated Sirius about his spells, sent James for a potion from the apothecary, determined the source of the infection, and wiped it out. She can tell were the largest open wounds were, despite his Healing charms. Sirius doesn't like to think about the implications of this. _  
_

And then James is back, clutching a phial full of red liquid. Lily signals to him to wait, running her wand slowly down Remus's body one last time. _Why didn't you take him somewhere else?_ she asks. _Hogwarts, or Mungo's?_

_Madam Pomfrey's full up._

_That's true, but St. Mungo's –_

_I couldn't. Moony hates it there._

Sirius, _nobody_ likes _going to hospital –_

No. _It's different, he's af – _Sirius looks across at James, pleading. _I went with him once, you know how they make him – _

_The yearly bit –_

_Yeah, and it was – I've never – he – I thought, they must have done something to him there, when he was a kid maybe, I dunno, I – I didn't want to put him through that, not if I didn't have to._

Lily keeps her head down, holding her wand steady. James's eyes behind his glasses are large and grave.

_I didn't have to, right?_

_No._ Lily straightens and beckons for the potion phial. _It was a good job you got me though. That could have gotten quite dangerous._

_But it won't?_

_He should just sleep it off now. Take a while. Someone should stay with him, just to make sure._ Potion administered, Lily stretches her back and yawns widely as if to indicate that this will not be her job.

_I can stay, _Sirius says. _What am I making sure about?_

_If his – here. _She twists her wand at the rickety nightstand and a tiny, electric blue alarm clock appears upon it. _That'll go off if his fever spikes again. If it does, get help. Talk to him when he wakes up. If you can't make him understand you, get help. That's about it. Should all be fine._

_You go on_, James says, and twines around to kiss her briefly. _I'll stay for a bit. Be home soon._

When she's gone – James and Sirius look at one another.

_What_ – James starts, then sighs heavily and glances at Remus, relieved to note that he now seems to be passed out more in the too-much-studying variety, and less in the terrifying one.

But speaking of terror.

_Earlier, did you almost say – _

_Afraid. Yes. Prongs, I probably shouldn't – _

_Right, yeah, of course._

_He was just – we'd _left_ and still –_ The truth is that although Sirius knows he shouldn't talk about this, although he wants to respect Remus's pride and save him embarrassment and already plans to quietly turn up this year without a word, the truth is that sometimes the memory strikes him or imagination overtakes him and makes him sick, the truth is that sometimes he just wants to share this with someone, just to be able to glance their way and know – but he hasn't spoken of it to anyone, not even to Remus himself, not since that day. He remembers taking Moony's weight onto himself. He thinks maybe he never really put it down.

_Padfoot?_

_I only went because we were already out together getting stuff for Pete's birthday and it just seemed easier, and so we went and it was nothing really, the appointment, it took ten minutes, but I could tell he was – well – we left – he scampered, like, and I went after him and he took a swing at me… he was shaking like… _Sirius closes his eyes. He can't say any more, he has no more words, and he certainly can't watch James's face break any longer.

_And you think –_

Sirius nods.

_And he has to go back there, _James whispers. _Every year._

Of course Sirius has thought about this. Sometimes it fills him with futile, impotent rage, anger without an outlet. Mostly, though, it makes him empty and useless. Who is there to take down when it's the world that's wrong? Not that it would do any good: some things can't be erased. Sirius knows.

He hears a creaking and opens his eyes to find that James has sat down heavily on the edge of Remus's bed. Sirius joins him, Moony between them like they are children again, like the day they cornered him and plied the truth from him and gave him his name.

_I'm going with him again this year. I don't think he'll mind, as I've already – well. I don't think he'd like to know I've told you, though._

_Right._

_James. Your hero complex is showing._

Normally at this point James protests that he has no such thing. Today, though, he only snorts and says, _Like yours isn't._

* * *

The St. Mungo's Apparition point is in a dead-end alley behind the building, far from the eyes of any but the most confused and directionally-challenged Muggles. Sirius supposes this must be where Remus is heading as he storms into the alleyway, clearly keen to put as much distance as possible between himself and the hospital. He's in no shape to Apparate, though: he's been unnaturally pale since they got here and his hands are fidgety. All the way out from the Dark Creature office he stared fixedly ahead, unheeding of Sirius's questions. Sirius is confused – not precisely unusual, that – but he knows, with instincts born of seven years living atop one another, that Remus is not all right. He's not even partially right. They should take a break, grab a drink, calm down before Apparating. He imagines Remus showing up to Pete's party missing a limb. Not so good for the festive atmosphere. He thinks of this as he chases Remus down the alley: _Moony! Hold up – wait for me, mate, c'mon –_

Near the edge of the building he catches hold of Remus's sleeve and sees the right hook to his face just in time to dodge. _Moony_, he says, shocked, taking in the wide, wild eyes. Remus swings again and this time Sirius is ready: he knocks the punch aside and with his other arm hauls Remus in to himself. He can think of nothing else to do.

At first Remus continues to struggle but Sirius just tightens his grip until he has to stop to gasp for breath and all the fight goes out of him. He sinks into Sirius, who stiffens his spine, managing not to stumble as he takes on the extra weight.

Remus is shaking head to toe as though he cannot summon the ability to control his own body. Sirius can feel the panic as pain in himself, deep and pinching at the base of his ribs. He swallows hard and hooks his chin over Remus's shoulder.

_Moony…_

A pause, for further panic to wrap around his skull.

_Moony, _he starts again_, I've got you. I've got you. It's over._ He keeps trying to say things, but they all sound monumentally stupid when his friend is breaking down before his eyes and he _doesn't know what the fuck he's on about_.

So eventually he just shuts up. He just stands there in an alleyway in the middle of London and holds his Moony close.

* * *

It feels like it takes a million years, but also like it wasn't long enough, like he's not quite sure he's said everything that needs to be said (never mind that he gave up on saying things). Finally, too soon, Remus speaks awkwardly into Sirius's collar, _This is so stupid, I'm sorry, I – I feel like such an idiot –_

_Don't, Moony – _

Remus is straightening; Sirius almost forgets to let go. _Mum used to come with me_, Remus tells the ground_. Every year. I pretended to resent it, you know. I thought I could handle it on my own this year. Because I had to. I really thought I could. I'm sorry, this is ridiculous –_

_I don't really know what you're on about_, Sirius says frankly_. But you don't have to do it alone._

_I barely managed even with you there._

'_Sall right._

_Padfoot, I can't –_

_Let's get a drink._

* * *

He is lying against something very warm and very hairy and the heavy blanket-weight makes him never want to move again. But he makes the mistake of breathing in too deeply – pain flares along his left side and he hears a sad little noise that probably came from him. The hairy warmth vanishes. This is distressing.

_Moony. Moony can you hear me?_

_Mmph._

_Open your eyes._

_Why? _It comes out like a breath. Opening his eyes sounds like a Herculean task at the moment.

_So I know you're all right. C'mon._

_Mmph._

_Please, Moony._

He's figured out the speaker now: Sirius, who says _please_ only when trying to charm Minerva McGonagall. He manages to lift one eyelid, then the other, and focus on the dim face above him. It's too dark for this.

Sirius peers at him for a moment, then says, _I think you're fine._

_Me too._ Remus lets his eyes close again. _I'm up. Eyes are just hard. What happened?_

_You had a bad transformation._

_Time is it?_

_Nineish. At night._

…_What?_

_Like I said, it was bad. Had to get Lily in. She thought I should have taken you to Mungo's._

His eyes fly open, exhaustion overcome by panic. _But – we're not –_

_Don't worry, I didn't. Lily fixed you up._

Remus looks past him, brings the room into focus. His own bedroom – thank Merlin. _Lily?_

_We didn't tell her. That is, James told her that he probably could tell her but he needed your permission first. So that's how much she knows._

Remus nods slightly. He's been expecting James to ask this for a while.

_It was bad, _Sirius repeats, like a reflex.

_Sorry._

_Stop that._

_And you didn't… you didn't take me to – _

_No. I didn't want to do that to you._

_Thank you._

_Right. Moony… I know this is a terrible time to ask, but I…_

_I know. It's all right. I mean I've – it's not that I don't want you to know about it, I do actually, it's just that –_

_You don't want to talk about it._

_Yeah._ And then he says what he's thought of saying for so long, what he knows Sirius won't be expecting: _I have a file on it. My old Mungo's file._

_You what?_ Sirius says eloquently.

_Do you remember… do you remember that law that went through in second year, the big part-human reform law?_

_You're not a – fine – yeah, wasn't that the one with all the rules about where you couldn't work and that? I remember reading it with James._

_It had that, but it had good bits too. You didn't notice those so much. There was a provision requiring informed consent for medical experimentation._

_Moony._

_That was good. That was a good day. Would you hand me my wand already._

Obediently Sirius retrieves the wand and Remus flicks it absently. Constant convalescence has made him very good at semiverbal Summoning Charms. Items don't even whack him in the face anymore – instead the file folder flies up to the bed and hovers next to his hand. He's only read it once: the day his mother gave it to him, just after he turned seventeen. Like all Mungo's files, it updates itself automatically with copies of all his records, Healing and research. There are many more pages of the latter. He pokes the file, gingerly, toward Sirius. _Here. You can read, if you want. I'm going to take a nap._

In the moment this seems completely natural. It is only later, looking back, that he will think about the level of trust it exhibits, to say _here are the darkest memories of my childhood, please examine them while I am powerless to stop you_. It is only later that he will wonder which Sirius was reading that file, only to convince himself again that it was the old Sirius, the one who was worthy of such trust.

In the moment Sirius looks bowled over by such trust. He tugs the file down into his lap and swallows. _Right. All right. You sleep._

Remus closes his eyes, and he does not know whether it is then or later that a shaggy head falls down at his side and the murmur _Moony, oh Moony_ threads its way into his dreams.

* * *

He wants, desperately, to read the file, to unlock one more Moony-secret after all these years. He also doesn't. He's afraid that whatever is written on these crackling sheafs will haunt his daydreams, and he won't be able to tell anyone about it. Again.

Then with a gust of glorious relief, he remembers what he told James. Mostly intimations, wasn't it, the extraverbal communication he and Prongs are so good at, but then the crucial things he said. He talked about the shaking and – how did he put it, exactly? _I think they did something to him, when he was a kid maybe._ He's about to find out. He won't have to speculate.

He won't be able to share whatever's in this file. But he's already shared that much with James – possibly he shouldn't have, but he had to make them understand – and anyway James won't tell. And now he knows _enough_, just enough to understand that there is something there, just enough to have an eye out, and to be able to witness Sirius's own internal panic if necessary. Sometimes that's all you can ask for, is a witness.

So it's decided then.

He opens the file.

Of course there are words that will haunt his daydreams. These words strike out at him, draw his eyes back however much he wants to stay away. _Five year old male lycanthrope presenting for participation in this study… the subject was restrained for administration of experimental potion… side effects included mania, headache, temporary blindness… aggression was determined by standard techniques while untransformed… subject sustained numerous blows before striking back… subject attempted to resist potion administration…_

There are moments when he has to stop and breathe and check that Moony is sleeping, painless and without apparent fear.

_Gen adolescent male, confused, withdrawn, speaks in short phrases… CVP tachycardic, tachypneic. Ext tenderness to palpation. The subject asks to go home_.

He checks the date. Mid-first year.

If Remus hadn't _asked _him to do this, he would give up partway. Both from the guilt (because then he would be snooping) and from the horror of the words. But Remus did ask him to do this, and so he at least looks at every page. After that bad one from first year, the entries get almost monotonous. That law at work. There is one every year, in the same week of July, with normal physical exams and psychiatric evaluations. The handwriting and tone change, becoming almost kind. _Adolescent male with history of lycanthropy and previously subject to potion and other trials by this establishment. Accompanied by mother. Quite nervous, but alert and appropriate answers… In summary, an articulate young man with a history of lycanthropy. No concerns at this time. Return visit in one year._

Yes, this person seems much better, but whoever it is always notes _nervous_ or _agitated._ It never seems to occur to St. Mungo's that their articulate young subject would be better off staying the hell away from that place – preferably forever.

When he reaches the end he goes back to a few of the worst pages, to acclimate himself to them and because he is meant to bear witness. That is his role here – possibly his role in life. (Possibly he is being melodramatic.) He looks at those pages until his eyes blur, and then he borrows Remus's wand to Banish the whole file back to wherever it came from, so Remus won't have to deal with it in the morning.

He is so tired.

He lays his head down on the bed, momentarily overwhelmed by the weight of the morning, and of the night too. _Moony, _he whispers, _oh, Moony_.

* * *

It is difficult to remember that Sirius, not only in the emotional sense but in the literal. The man who nearly murdered Ron Weasley tonight exists infinities away from the boy who slung an arm around Remus's neck and led him into Mungo's, who let him walk right into him when it was done for another year. That they could inhabit the same body seems ontologically absurd.

But there it is, anyway; and Remus Lupin has never been a stranger to the fact that absurd truths sometimes have to be lived with.

Today, that means keeping the students safe. That's been seen to already in the immediate sense, but stronger defenses will have to go up. Fortunately, Remus is not in charge. Today he will do what Dumbledore asks of him and he will grade papers and feed the hinkypunk and handle any scared kid who comes to his door. He must think of this no more.

He nods in thanks to Poppy before leaving her clean, warm office behind: it's time to get started.


End file.
